Dreaming of Reality
by Auua Ytjoml
Summary: Dreaming as the summer dies, Alice moving under skies, never seen by waking eyes, just dreaming as the days go by, for in a Wonderland they lie, dreaming.  Is she dreaming?


Alice suddenly stands up.  
"Forgive me for leaving early but I must go." She says to the rest of the table. The two Scotsmen shake their heads at the girl's antics, but Lord Ascott and her mother watch the girl hurry away with worry.

She waits till the door is softly closed then kicks off her heels and takes off towards the dales. At first her feet pound over grass and twigs but soon she is flying through the forest. Branches tug at her clothing and roots trip her up but she continues, dashing this way and that, until she collapses gasping and crying.

"Why can they not leave me alone?" she sobs. "the dreams, so strange, curiouser and curiouser" . . . "oh my arm! It hurts!"  
She clutches at the offending limb and slowly rocks herself into a stupor. At some point she hears a voice calling her name but she ignores it, choosing to weep alone.

Then a twig beside her snaps and long arms wrap around her. She struggles instinctively to get away but they only grip tighter, gentle but like iron bars. She relents.

"Can ye no hush your weepin?" the man asks.  
"No. I can't remember." She wipes away a tear. "And I'm not sure I want to. I dream I'm in pain. And others are in pain. I'm afraid."

He pulls at her arms and she lets him draw her closer until she is leaning against his chest. He rocks her softly and hums in her ear. She does not recognize the tune but her body knows it's a lullaby.

"Can ye no hush your weepin?  
All the wee lambs are sleepin,  
Birdies are nestlin, nestlin together,  
Dream Angus is hirplin o'er the heather-"

Curious she murmurs "who is Dream Angus?"  
The man giggles and smoothes out her hair. "He is a very old and very yoong, man who collects memories soom good, soom bad to give out as dreams. This is why ye should never dismiss something as 'just a dream'. For someone else it was as real as you an me.  
She nestles closer.

"What would Mother say if she saw me like this?" she murmers under her breath. "And with a complete stranger."

The man gasps as if in pain, or so she assumes but she must be wrong because he's singing again.

"Dreams to sell,  
Fine dreams to sell,  
Dream Angus is here wi' dreams to sell"

She interrupts again "How much do they cost?" she questions him feeling silly.  
But he answers in all earnestness "one memory, tae replenish 'is bag o dreams."  
She murmurs dozily "he can have my dreams back. I don't like them."  
He looks down at her form and asks quietly. "What if they are mem'ries, yoer mem'ries?"

For the first time she looks up at him. "You have the most remarkable eyes." She comments to change the subject.  
"So I've been told." He responds going her way for the moment. "Is it true?" he finally whispers. "Ye do nae remember?"  
She tilts her head to the side. "Should I?"

His eyes turn even paler if possible till they are the pale yellow of a pressed dandelion.

"Pray haps not."

He seems so sad that she withdraws a little from her own confusion. "Would you finish the lullaby?" she asks softly.  
He looks at her. "O course."

"Can ye no hush your weepin?  
All the wee lambs are sleepin,  
Birdies are nestlin, nestlin together,  
Dream Angus is hirplin o'er the heather

Dreams to sell  
Fine dreams to sell  
Angus is hear wi' dreams to sell  
Hush ye my bairn an sleep wi'oot fear  
Dream Angus has brought ye a dream my dear

List to the curlew cryin  
Faintly the echo's dying  
Even the birdies an the beasties are sleepin  
But my bonny bairn lies weepin, weepin

Dreams to sell  
Fine dreams to sell  
Angus is hear wi' dreams to sell  
Hush ye my bairn an sleep wi'out fear  
Dream Angus has brought ye a dream . . ."

"my dear-"

his voice trails off and is absorbed by the pines surrounding them.  
"Why are you doing this?" Alice asks "Why do you care about a mad girl's tears?"  
The man takes her chin and turns her around to face him. Wiping away the dirt and tears and sap from her face with a bit of cloth he puts his palms on her face.  
"Someone once told me that all the best people are, mad I mean."  
She peers at him. "My father told me that. Did you know him?"

He shakes his head. They sit like that for a while listening to the birds, the squirrels, the frogs, the wind.

"Would ye play a game with me?" he asks suddenly as if spurred by a sudden idea.  
"Yes I will" Alice says. "How do you play?"  
"Lets think of impossible things. Six each."

"Ok." she wipes some needles clear from the forest floor. Drawing a finger through the dirt she says. "One, a girl can be a business partner."

She looks up at him. "Your turn."

He draws a line of his own. "A Queen cin be o'erthrown wi' the help of a champion."

She draws a second line. Looking away from him she says "A monster can heal you."

He replies "There is sich a thing as a Bandersnatch."

"A cat can grin"

"Chesire cats evaporate too." He grins at her.

Alice frowns. " I'm scared to remember." She tells him.

He scoots closer to her and clasps her hand in his own. "Don't be lassie. I'm here for you."

She detangles his hand from hers and hugs herself. "You're mad at me aren't you? Because I don't remember."

He shakes his head vigorously. "Nae! Tis not so. I could n'er be mad at you. Now I believe we were on number four."

She shudders, but, after a moment, she continues. "Someone can escape beheading?" she asks him.

"Several someone's" he nods.

She continues hesitantly "a mouse and a-? I don't know." She mumbles. "I can't"

"here is my fourth lass. You, Alice, can do anything ye set your mind to."

"Can I?" she asks disbelievingly. "Five, I can forget."

"But five, ye always return."

"To Wonderland?" she asks him, pleading with him to say yes, begging him to say no.

"Alice do you remember me now?" he asks her gently.

"Yes Hatter." She ducks away, timid and anxious.

He catches her again. "Look at me Alice. Am I mad at you?"

She looks. His hair is a bright carrot orange. His clothes are brightly colored and springy. Most of all his eyes are the deepest and brightest green she's ever seen.

"No."

"Then lets go home."

`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',`,',

Helen wakes just in time to see the young man blow her a kiss and slip out her window, hoisting his bag onto his back. She sits up and notices something on the windowsill. She gets out of bed and picks it up. It is a letter.

_ Dear Mother,_

_I'm sorry to have worried you so much. Let it suffice that I am well and happy. I do not know how many years will have past between the time that I write this and the time that you read it but I would like you to know about your new son in law. He is a Scotsmen with green eyes and orange hair. He is taller than me, I suppose, but that is all right. He is a milliner and a dressmaker. Also he is as mad as I and twice as merry. We have tea everyday with our friends Mally and Thackery. Sometimes Ches or the Tweedles join us as well. I hope you are as well and as happy as I am. Please remember that I love you and Margaret dearly and always will._

_With love_

_Alice Kingsley Hightopp._

Helen looks out the window at the rose garden. This year she had found one blossom that was half red, half white. She'd had a painting done of her youngest daughter holding that flower under a tree. She glances at that painting now. Something new catches her eye and she peers closely at it, glasses almost touching the smooth paint. Behind Alice, at the foot of the tree, is a rabbit hole. One that Helen was certain hadn't been there before.

Helen smiles and allows herself to believe in just a little maddness, just one impossible thought before bed.

Perhaps Alice had found her Wonderland at last.


End file.
